


You Are Not Broken

by startrekkingaroundasgard



Series: Pride Month Prompts 2019 [9]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Bucky Barnes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:02:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19286788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekkingaroundasgard/pseuds/startrekkingaroundasgard
Summary: The reader helps Bucky come to terms with being asexual and assures him that there is nothing wrong him.





	You Are Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> This kinda hit home for me. There are days when I sit and think about why I had to be aro-ace and I‘m still coming to terms with feeling broken or having something wrong with me. Anyway. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.

Bucky coughed less than subtly, hoping to end the display that Clint and Natasha were providing. He could understand; it had been a long few weeks apart because of missions and they always got touchy after a few glasses of wine but that didn’t mean he wanted to see his friends get biblical. “Can you two miss each other a little less?”

“Can you blame me? When I look at Tasha, I can’t help myself. She’s gorgeous. I just wanna sweep her up and take her to bed for a week, you know?’

 _I don’t know,_ Bucky thought. The first thought that had come into his mind at Clint’s words was cuddling beneath the comfort of a blanket, eating junk food and watching TV. From the glint in the archer’s eyes, and the wandering hands of his wife, it was clear those were not the kind of bedroom activities that Natasha’s beauty inspired in him.

It wasn’t the first time Bucky had found himself feeling like he was missing out on something. He often wondered whether the team really did think about sex all the time or if it was just bravado. Another coping mechanism to play off the tensions which dragged down each and everyone one of them.

“Sammyo,” Tony said, clicking his fingers to pull Sam’s attention away from the bar where his boyfriend was drinking pensioners under the table with Thor. Not only were Clint and Natasha not listening to his ridiculous story, now Sam was ignoring him too and Tony couldn’t have that. “Stop staring at that all American ass and pay attention. We know those tight jeans make you wanna jump Steve’s bones but we’re in public.Try and be a little respectable.”

“Because you’re the leading authority in that area,” Rhodes scoffed, elbowing Tony in the side. The genius didn’t have much room to argue that point but cited the last few years of good behaviour - ever since he and Pepper had officially gotten together, Tony had left his playboy days in the past - as an example of his new found respectability. Rhodes wasn’t convinced.

Like Sam, Scott seemed unable to tear his gaze from Steve’s figure leaving Bucky once again wondering if they were seeing something he was not. His cheeks a little red, possibly from the alcohol, possibly not, Scott said, “Pains me to say but Tony’s right; that is America’s ass.”

Sam shoved Scott off the arm of his chair. Not entirely joking, he grumbled, “Get your own blonde beefcake, Tic Tac.”

“If you’re looking, I think Thor’s single,” Tony pointed out. A round of laughter erupted at Scott’s expression, somewhere between terrified and intrigued, everyone well aware that he would never survive a night with Thor even if he were genuinely interested.

“He’s packing quite the hammer,” Clint pointed out. “I’m sure he’d let you test it out if you asked nicely.”

Natasha drew her fingernail across Clint’s cheek, turning his face towards her. “Careful, darling, or I might get jealous.”

“You are all the worst,” you said, pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek as you handed over his refilled glass. You draped yourself over his lap and his arm immediately found its home around your waist, his metal fingers trailing random patterns over your knee.

Bucky loved the way you curled into his chest, wanting, needing, as much contact as you could get. Whenever you were around, his thoughts were lighter. The days were a little less dark with your light to chase away the shadows. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve someone as wonderful as you.

You were constantly aware his emotions and always knew when something was up. Normally, it was a blessing. You’d read his mood and instantly know what he needed, whether it was comfort or just space to be alone. He never felt like he had to hide around you because you understood, you loved him either way.

Tonight was the same as ever. You were attuned to him in a way that no one else had ever been. All his tension, the tightness in his muscles, the soft frown on his face (which others dismissed as his usual murder stare), it told you more than any words could possibly say.

Brushing the hair from his face, fingers light as ever as they danced across his skin, you asked softly, “You okay?”

“Yeah, doll. I’m fine.” Maybe if he said it enough it would be true. He was grateful that you didn’t push him to answer again, even though it shone in your eyes that you didn’t believe him for one moment.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur. Bucky had zoned out of the shenanigans and fallen back into his mind but it wasn’t a darkness trying to pull him back. It wasn’t the horrifying memories which so often plagued his thoughts. Just a confusion and sadness as the truth became clearer.

It was almost funny how normal human fears and emotions were as capable as breaking him as any kind of torture. He struggled to process them so instead of trying he just slipped into the emptiness, the blank mindspace where nothing really mattered.

Bucky didn’t lose his grip on reality, though. Your gentle touches grounded him, keeping him on the right side of the emptiness where he could let go of his worries but maintain his sense of self, whether he wanted to or not. Your fingers playing with the loose strands of his hair. The warmth of your breath on his cheek. The gentle movement of your chest against his. They all served to remind him what a blessing he had in you, reminded him what happiness felt like.

Eventually, the pair of you left the party and headed back to your apartment. Bucky wordless sat on the edge of the bed with the intention of untying his shoes - a simple task, something he should have been able to do if he wasn’t so messed up - but ended up just staring at the far wall through the darkness.

“Alright, mister,” you said, perching on the bed beside him. He was grateful you hadn’t turned the lights on, instead letting him hide in the shadows. It was easier to talk like this and you knew it. You really were perfect.

Your hand found his, linking your warm fingers with his cold metal ones. The pressure was comfortingly familiar. Resting your head on his shoulder, you asked, “You gonna tell me what’s up?”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

He could practically hear the cogs turning in your head as you looked back upon the evening, searching for anything that might have triggered him or for proof that the loud, socialising had just been too much. Already pushing yourself up to help in whatever way you could, you said, “Do you want to go down to the gym? Or do you need a blanket? Tea?”

Bucky tugged you back to the bed, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m fine, doll. No need for any of that tonight. I just - Can I ask you a question?”

“Always, Bucky. You know that.”

“I don’t really know how to…” Upon your suggestion of using words, he rolled his eyes yet was truly grateful at your attempt to keep the mood light. The both of you were well aware of how heavy the air was beginning to feel, Bucky’s insecurities a physical weight on his shoulders but one you had always been willing to help him bear.

Unable to think of any better way to phrase it, he asked simply, “When you look at someone attractive, do you want to have sex with them? I mean. You think about it sometimes, right?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t think I do.” Your forehead crumpled in a frown and for a terrible minute Bucky thought he’d offended you. Quick to reassure you, he squeezed your hands and blurted out his thoughts, which flowed like a river once he started. “Darling, I think you’re gorgeous and fantastic and Lord knows I love you. I just… Like when you and the guys talk and joke about It all, I don’t feel that.”

Running a hand through his hair, the words falling freely from his lips now, Bucky explained, “I thought it was something HYDRA did. You know I struggled with touch for years because of what they put me through. I figured I was working through a lot of stuff and sex was a huge deal so putting it off made sense. And you’ve been so good with me, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Now I’m comfortable to being touched and hugged and kissed and I feel like me but that desire still isn’t there. Which means it was - or wasn’t - there before they took me.

“I think it was easier before the war. I can’t remember a lot clearly. Getting your hands on sexy pictures of girls was risky and that thrill of getting caught with them was more exciting to me than the pictures themselves. Now that kind of thing is everywhere. It still does nothing for me.

“And I know I went out with a lot of girls and we had fun but I look back and I don’t feel… I don’t remember ever feeling… I thought it was what everyone did so I did it too and it was nice enough…” The words came so quickly now that Bucky could barely breathe, the weight of his thoughts crushing his chest. “It wasn’t something HYDRA did. They couldn’t break me because I was already broken. There’s always been something wrong with me.”

You shook your head, your eyes shimmering with tears as you felt his pain. “No, Bucky. There is nothing wrong with you.”

“There must be. I look at you and see this beautiful face but that’s it. I know I love you and that means I should want to have sex with you and I don’t. What does that say about me? I know you’re sexy but I don’t feel it. How could you want to be with someone like that? Like this? You deserve someone who -“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You are everything to me, Buck. I am not with you for sex. You are already everything I need you to be for me. You make me laugh and smile and you hold me when I cry. You make me feel safe and loved in this stupidly dangerous world of ours and there is not a person alive who I would rather be with.”

He closed his eyes as you pressed your lips to his cheek, gently cupping his face and pulling him into a longer kiss. You tasted like sugar, light and sweet from all the cocktails you’d had tonight. Beneath that, the sharp taste of alcohol on your tongue. Bucky couldn’t get drunk thanks to the serum but he guessed it would feel like kissing you; light headed, the world spinning around him, his heart’s truest desires brought to life in feeling you close, having that connection with you.

When you broke away, you kept your fingers woven together, one hand in your lap, the other trailing through his hair. A dreamy smile on your face, you said, “That is what I need, Bucky. Your love. Not sex. They are not one in the same, regardless of what society seems to think. Please believe me, Bucky. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Did you ever consider that you’re asexual?”

Bucky frowned, the sudden question throwing him off balance. Along forgotten memory of science classes bubbled up to the front of his mind and filled him with confusion. “What? Isn’t that what plants are?”

“Well, yeah, but not in this case. It’s a term for people who don’t feel sexual attraction. You know how some people are attracted to men - like Sam and Wanda - and some are attracted to women - like Clint - and others are attracted to both - like basically everyone else on this team? Well, asexual people feel it towards no one. It is just as valid. Just as real.”

Asexual. Bucky tested the word out, the pressure on his chest lifting. It was only a word, seven measly letters, and yet it changed everything. There was a name for what he felt - or didn’t feel. There were other people in the world just like him. He wasn’t weird or broken or ill. There was nothing wrong with him. I am asexual.

You wiped away the tears from his eyes, once again understanding in only that way you could how he was feeling. You didn’t force him to try and put it into words. You didn’t need to hear that. Instead, you shuffled into his lap and threw your arms around his neck, holding you tightly.

“There’s lots of information and resources on the internet. We can read more about it together, if you want.”

“That would be… helpful,” Bucky admitted, pressing a kiss to your temple. The way you were looking at him, love in your eyes, the light of the moon and the stars shining through the window and highlighting all your beautiful features, Bucky couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. “I love you, doll.”

“Love you too, Buck. Come on, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”


End file.
